


The Proposal

by curlshire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, M/M, The Proposal - Freeform, what is movie fusion um i think it's the right thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlshire/pseuds/curlshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a tetchy editor and Harry is his unfortunate assistant.  After Louis is threatened with a demotion, he quickly makes plans to fake a marriage to Harry. (Based off the movie The Proposal)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this anonymously for someone on Tumblr so while I can't repost it there, I did want to keep it elsewhere, thus I thought I'd post it on here. My apologies for any mistakes; this wasn't properly beta'd, I had to try and do my own editing and it was done on less than 3 hours of sleep in a busy airport so it's probably rife with errors.

Harry  _hates_  his job.

Perhaps that’s not the right way to say it.  Really, it’s not so much that he dislikes the job itself, he just can’t  _stand_  his douchebag of a boss.  Louis Tomlinson is the editor-in-chief of a major publishing company in London, and he also happens to be, in Harry’s opinion, the most incredibly  _rude_  human being in existence.  And yet, for the past three years, Harry has managed to come in to work every morning and work as Louis’s assistant, seeing the worst side of him in all its terrifying glory.

This morning is no exception.

Mr. Nicholas Grimshaw has come in for an appointment with Louis to have his manuscript appraised, and when he sees the hopeful look on Nicholas’s face, Harry really does feel bad for him.  He’s had this appointment for  _months_ , and he looks so bright and eager, with absolutely noidea of the terror that Louis is about to inflict on him and his beloved manuscript.

Louis plucks the full folder off his desk, careful not to spill the thick stack of papers stashed inside, and flips through the first few pages briefly, eyes skimming quickly over the lines of print. “Ugh.  No,  _no_.  Terrible, just terrible.  Honestly, what were you even  _thinking_?” He says, shaking his head disdainfully and pressing his lips into a tight frown as he holds the folder out towards Harry, who hesitantly takes it despite not knowing what he’s meant to do with it.

"But…but I worked on that for  _three fucking years_!  You didn’t even read it, you just skimmed the first four pages!” Nicholas splutters, his tone a cross between shocked, angry, and pleading.

“And just by skimming those first four pages, I could already tell it was shit; that’s exactly how awful it was.” Louis says.  A small, tight smile curves at his lips – a silent but firm sign that, as far as he’s concerned, this conversation is over. “Good day, Mr. Grimshaw.”

Nicholas turns and trudges out of the office, mumbling something along the lines of ‘ _fucking uppity little cunt_ ’ before slamming the door behind him.

Louis sighs to himself and readjusts his glasses over the bridge of his nose before straightening up in his chair and pulling another folder off his desk, preparing to launch himself into another project.

For a few moments, Harry stands in silence, watching the petite man as he leafs through the document and scrawls notes into the margins with a rather expensive-looking fountain pen.  It takes five minutes before Harry has the courage to quietly clear his throat in an attempt to remind Louis of his presence.

Louis’s head whips up, and he turns to give Harry a pointed look, though he doesn’t actually say anything.

“Erm, what do you want me to do with this?” Harry asks, holding up the folder of Nicholas’s rejected manuscript.

“I don’t know.  Shred it, burn it, buy a gerbil and use it as cage bedding – just do  _something_  to ensure that no other poor soul ever has to have the misfortune of reading it.” Louis sighs, waving his hand dismissively.

Harry tries not to roll his eyes at Louis’s harsh statement, choosing instead to give an obedient nod.  He dumps the entire folder in the recycling bin, and it hits the bottom of the plastic container with a loud  _thunk_.  Harry tries not to think about the fact that he’s just thrown out something that took three years of someone’s life to create; there’s really nothing he can do anyway, even if he does feel a little guilty.

“Must you go around  _dropping_  things in my office?  I’m trying to concentrate.” Louis points out with a slight grimace.  He doesn’t want to have to even sit in the same room as Nicholas’s poor excuse for a manuscript, to be honest, but he can’t afford to be picky right now.  He really needs to finish editing this draft of Zayn Malik’s next novel, and he’s not even halfway finished yet.

"Sorry, sir.” Harry murmurs, trying to force a pleasant smile on his face. “Is there anything you need?”

“Go and fetch me a tea from that little café down the street.  Extra large, three sugars, with the bag in.” Louis says without looking up from his work.

Harry sighs, but says nothing.  He really wishes Louis would trust him enough to let him help out with the rough editing process.  He’s a damned executive assistant; he’s worked in the publishing field for 6 years.  He graduated top of his class with his English baccalaureate from the most respected programme in the country, and yet he’s sitting here fetching tea and recycling rejected manuscripts for some tight-arse.  He knew he’d have to work his way up when he’d gotten into the field, but he didn’t think it would take  _6 years_.  He started out as a lowly intern and spent the next 3 years working is way up, but ever since then he’s been stuck in  _this_  shitty position. 

He turns to walk out of the room only to be interrupted when the phone rings.  Louis snaps his fingers and points at the phone, too engrossed in his work to even properly ask Harry to take the call for him.

Harry bites his tongue to hold back a grimace and obediently walks back to the desk, cradling the telephone receiver against his ear. “Mr. Tomlinson’s office.”

“It’s Simon Cowell.  Tell Mr. Tomlinson that I need to see him in my office,  _immediately_.” The man on the other end says, voice sharp and professional.

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but the line clicks dead before he can speak.  He gulps heavily and puts the phone down, facing his upcoming moral dilemma.  Mr. Cowell is the head of the entire company – his orders aren’t to be taken lightly.  However, Louis is still completely absorbed in his work, and Harry isn’t sure he wants to be the one to break his concentration.

“Uh, Mr. Cowell wants to see you in his office.” Harry says meekly, ducking his head as if trying to shrink away into nothing.

“Tell him it’s not a good time.” Louis mumbles, tapping the pen against his lower lip as he continues to scan over the pages laid out in somewhat organized chaos in front of him.

Harry blinks. “He’s not on the line, he…he hung up.” He stammers, confused.  Even if Louis is busy, surely he can see that Harry’s not on the phone anymore.

“ _Call him back, Harold_.” Louis says in a slow, patronizing voice, like the solution is perfectly obvious and Harry’s a complete idiot for not figuring it out himself.  He looks up from his papers for a brief second to give Harry a pointed look and one of his infamous tight smiles that makes Harry want to strangle himself with his own tie every time he sees it.

“He said he wanted to see you immediately.” Harry reiterates.  Normally he would do whatever Louis asked him, but not when it comes to the head of the company.  He’s worked for Louis long enough to know that he wouldn’t fire him without good reason; Mr. Cowell, however, has been known to fire people in the company for something as small as delivering coffee that wasn’t hot enough.

Louis takes his lower lip between his teeth, mulling over the options.  Unlike Harry, he doesn’t need to be too scared of Mr. Cowell.  Louis is the company’s best agent; he’s pulled some of the best writers and published an astounding majority of the top-selling works on the company’s behalf – an example of that is the manuscript he’s working on now.  Zayn Malik, one of the most famous writers in the country, was ready to sign with another company before Louis persuaded him to change his mind.  Now, he’s working on the next installment of his best-selling series that has earned  _millions_ for the company, and it’s all thanks to Louis.

And yet, despite the fact that this company owes him so much, Louis knows better than to defy Cowell when he’s in a mood. “Okay, fine.  Just come knock on the door in  _exactly_  7 minutes.  Make up some excuse about an urgent conference call or something – I don’t know, try to be creative.” Louis says, pushing himself away from his desk and straightening up, smoothing his suit over his curvy frame before walking out the door without so much as a ‘goodbye’.

Harry scowls at Louis’s retreating figure, leaning against the wall and watching the clock.  He has exactly 7 minutes to himself; 7 minutes where he doesn’t need to get tea or respond to the call of ‘hey you’ or worry about getting pen refills from the local office supply store just because Louis ‘can’t possibly write in  _blue_  ink’.  He’s going to make the most of these 7 minutes, he decides.

Louis can barely keep himself focused as he makes his way through the office and over to the lift.  His mind is still whirring, thinking through all he needs to do to get Zayn Malik’s manuscript formatted and ready for publishing, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from running back into his office and locking himself in until he’s finished working on it.

However, as soon as he hears the lift  _ding_  to announce that it’s arrived at the proper floor, Louis takes care to clear any signs of stress off his expression.  He doesn’t like the thought of anyone knowing how exhausted he is; to show weakness in this business is to admit defeat, to open yourself up to skepticism.  The last thing he needs is the interns thinking he’s gone soft or his boss thinking he can’t handle his job.

“Tomlinson!  There you are.  Sit down.” Mr. Cowell barks as soon as Louis enters his office.  His voice is loud and snappish, but still fond; he hasn’t forgotten how much money Louis has made for this company, and he’s damn sure going to respect the man for it.

Louis nods and takes a seat across from Mr. Cowell.  Two other men are seated on either side of Cowell, and Louis recognizes them as the company vice president and the head of company public relations.  As friendly as they all look, Louis can’t help but gulp and think,  _shit_.

“Good morning, Mr. Cowell.” Louis says, and as well as he recognizes the other board members by face, he can’t remember their names for the life of him, so he decides to settle with a simple greeting nod for both of them.

The men return it, both with a friendly and warm grin on their face.  It throws Louis off; members of the board aren’t known to be too kind, even to their best employees.

“Would you like anything?  Tea, coffee, muffin?” Mr. Cowell asks, and a skittish-looking intern dutifully steps forward to take Louis’s order.

Louis shakes his head. “No, not right now, thanks.  Listen, not to be rude, but is this an urgent matter?  I’m just in the middle of finishing up the next draft of Malik’s next novel.” He hopes that dropping Zayn’s name is enough to remind them how valuable his time is right now; he really can’t afford to stay up here much longer.

Mr. Cowell sighs and gives a single dismissive wave at his intern, who obediently scampers out of the room. “Louis,  we need to talk.”

Louis bites back a groan at the overused phrase. “What about?” He says instead, trying to look earnest.  He casts a subtle glance down at his watch; 5 minutes until Harry is supposed to come up and get him out of this with the promise of some made-up emergency.

“You know we value you here; you’ve done a  _phenomenal_  job, and some people in the company have taken to calling you the Midas of publishing because of your immense success.” Mr. Cowell starts, and Louis immediately knows this isn’t going to be good.  Cowell only ever gives heavy praise right before delivering bad news, as if he thinks he can soften the blow by patting them on the back.

“Thank you, sir.” Louis says, trying to cut through the small talk and push Mr. Cowell to his point.

“You run a tight ship, and if someone isn’t willing to give you their best, you’ll have nothing to do with them.  You’re not afraid to be brutally honest, and that’s what’s great about you as an employee.” Cowell continues.

Louis casts a sly glance down at his watch once again; three minutes.  He looks back up at Mr. Cowell and nods, trying to look flattered.

  “But the thing is, lately people have been… _talking_.” Chimes in one of the men sitting next to Mr. Cowell – the head of the company’s public relations team, Louis thinks.  He still can’t remember his name no matter how hard he tries, though.

The vice president seems to take this as his turn to speak as well. “Your reputation is starting to get around.  People – writers,  _potential clients_  – are starting to think of you as some ruthless, intimidating monster.”

Mr. Cowell nods. “It’s driving people away from the company.  Nobody wants to sign their manuscripts away to someone if they think it’s just going to get torn to shreds and laughed at.”

Louis suddenly wishes that it was just Mr. Cowell; now, with the other two members of the board, he feels like this is some strange form of public humiliation. “I’m not going to apologize for accepting only the highest quality of work.  If I sign someone, I do it knowing that I have full confidence in them.”

“There’s a difference between professionally declining an author and insulting everything they’ve ever written.” The vice president points out harshly.

Mr. Cowell shoots a stern look at the vice president, who immediately shuts up. “Regardless, the bottom line is that it’s hurting our business.  You need to change your image, for the sake of the company.”

The head of public relations jumps in again. “I looked into the rumors that were going around, and it looks like the most common complaint is that you don’t seem like much of a people person.  You don’t speak to your family much, you don’t have any pictures of friends or family on your desk – rumor has it you don’t even  _date_.  People want an editor who they feel will care about them the way they care for their loved ones.”

“Okay, I’ll try to be nicer to people.” Louis says exasperatedly, growing anxious.  A quick glance at his watch tells him that Harry was supposed to be here two minutes ago, and he makes a mental note to make sure Harry pays for each and every  _second_  that he’s late.

Mr. Cowell shakes his head, and Louis wonders what more he could possibly want from him. “You’re pushing 30; people want to see you settle down and become a family man.  Start dating, get out a bit more.  We’ll push you down to paperwork and filing for a little bit, and then once you’ve found yourself a long-term relationship we’ll move you back up to the front lines.”

Louis feels his heart lurch into his throat.  He’s getting bumped down?  How, after all he’s done for them, could they even fucking  _think_  about moving him down?  He opens his mouth to  _beg_  for them to reconsider, but he’s cut off as the door swings open and a panting, frantic-looking Harry bursts in.

Suddenly, Louis is hit with an idea that’s either genius or absolute shit – he doesn’t have enough time to decide which.  He leaps to his feet and grabs Harry’s hand, leaning into his side with a forced smile that he hopes looks somewhat romantic. “Actually, I’ve already found someone.” He says.

“Uh, Mr. Tomlinson…” Harry starts uncertainly.

“It’s okay, Harry.  I think it’s time we come clean about our relationship.” Louis says, looking up to smile at Harry while squeezing his hand so tightly that several of Harry’s knuckles crack.

Harry winces. “Okay,” he chokes out, too shocked to think of anything else to say.

“We didn’t want to make the relationship public for fear of anyone getting the wrong impression – what with me dating my assistant and whatnot.” Louis says, practically tripping over his own words in an attempt to get them out. “But, after dating for – what is it, honey, two years now? – I think we’re ready to make it official.”

Harry’s eyebrows twitch up when Louis says ‘honey’, but other than that he remains rather unresponsive.

The vice president narrows his eyes suspiciously. “How close are you two, exactly?”

Louis can see what Cowell wants to hear, and he’s more than ready to tell him just that. “We’ve been living together for almost a year now.  Harry actually proposed to me – just last month.  It’s been so hard to hide our relationship; this is  _such_  a weight off my chest.”

“Well, this is great news!” Mr. Cowell declares, clapping his hands together excitedly. “I hope you don’t mind, Louis, but if we’re going to keep you in your current position, we’ll have to make sure this relationship goes very,  _very_  public in order to change your image.”

“We could have a little company celebration for your engagement party.” The head of public relations suggested. “Invite our best authors and a few potential clients, get the media involved – just to make sure everyone sees a more personal side to you.”

“Not to exploit your relationship or anything,” Mr. Cowell adds in quickly, though Louis can practically see the dollar signs swirling round his head.

“It will be a nice way to come clean to all of our coworkers about our relationship.” Louis says, pretending to ponder it for a few moments before nodding slightly. “Why not?”

Cowell absolutely lights up with glee, and the head of public relations dives down to scribble vigorous notes onto his clipboard – probably already writing down a list of invites to be sent and events to be planned.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, his expression scrunched up into one of protest, but Louis cuts him off before he has the chance to say anything that might ruin his lie. “Well, we ought to get back to work.  Malik’s manuscript won’t edit itself.” He says, tightening his arm around Harry’s waist before leading him out of the office.

“What was—” Harry begins.

Louis cuts him off by squeezing at his narrow hips with bone-crushing force. “Lift,” He says, his voice so low it’s practically a growl.

Harry winces at the pressure, but he reluctantly complies and walks in silence alongside Louis.  As soon as the chrome doors have shut behind them, though, he turns to Louis with a venomous look, lips pressed in a tight line and nostrils flaring.

Louis sighs and leans against the wall, jabbing the button for his floor. “You could have been a little more convincing.” He notes mildly.

“ _What_?” Harry splutters, and his expression quickly changes to one of pure bewilderment, his mouth gaping open and his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

Louis ignores his evident bafflement. “I think it worked out okay, though – they seemed too stunned to be paying much attention to your acting – but if you’ve any hope of keeping up the lie, you’re going to have to step it up a bit.”

Harry looks like he’s going to explode, and he opens his mouth to yell as many curses as he can think of, but suddenly he remembers where he is – in a lift, at his work, with his very tetchy boss.  He sucks in a deep breath and plasters on the most shit-eating smile he can manage. “I’m sorry,  _Mr. Tomlinson_ , but if you think I’m actually going to marry you, you’re  _bat-fucking-shit crazy_.”

“Watch your language, Styles.” Louis says, though he doesn’t sound too bothered.  He tilts his head back and leans it against the wall of the lift, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “It’s not as bad as you think it would be.  We get married, stay together for a few months – a year, tops – then, after a lot of thought and consideration, we decide that we just don’t work together.  At least, that’s what we tell the company.  Then, you get transferred to the company branch in Manchester – which, if I remember correctly, is closer to your family  _anyway_  – and I act heartbroken, get some sympathy, look like more of a ‘people-person’ to make Cowell happy, and we can both move on with our lives.”

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but the lift doors whoosh open to reveal their floor.  Apparently the news of their engagement has  _somehow_  already travelled to this floor, as the rows of office clerks can’t seem to stop staring at the two men and whispering, paying particular attention to their ring fingers.  Harry forces a slight smile on his face and waves at them, and this seems to help jolt some of them back to reality as they turn back to their work, though some of them continue to stare.

Louis walks back to his office with quick strides, leaving Harry with no other option but to trail behind him and try to act as though everything is normal, if for no other reason than to keep his suspicious coworkers quiet.

He almost runs face-first into Louis’s door, however, when Louis tries to slam it shut behind him.  Harry catches it, prying it back open and biting his cheek to keep from scowling.  He makes sure the door is entirely closed before he turns back to Louis, and is quite surprised to see that he’s settled back in behind his desk and is pouring over the Malik manuscript once again.

Louis sighs when he hears the door click shut and sees Harry out of the corner of his eye.  He doesn’t glance up, but he does pinch the bridge of his nose as he speaks. “What are you still doing here?  I have work to do, go…occupy yourself.” He says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Harry reaches up and tugs at his tie, prying at the knot until it loosens so he can breathe a bit easier.  He decides to ignore Louis’s statement in order to focus on the more important matter at hand. “Are you honestly telling me that you want me to pretend to marry you and go through all this shit  _just_  so I can move closer to my family in a  _year_?”

Louis pulls his glasses off his face and scrubs his palm over his face. “Do you want something else?  Fine, name your price.”

Harry blinks. “My price?” He repeats, dumbfounded.

“Yes, your price.  What do you want, a raise?  More vacation time?  More flexible hours?  Just tell me, and I’ll do it.” Louis says, casting a glance at his watch and praying that he can get this conversation over with quickly.  He’s already moved through a mental checklist of things he’ll have to cancel or postpone in order to finish this manuscript on time; so far, it looks like he’s going to have to skip lunch  _and_  dinner in favor of some shitty takeaway, and if his calculations are correct he won’t be getting to bed until four in the morning.

Harry pauses for a moment, crossing his arms.  Now that there’s suddenly an opportunity for him to get something out of this, he’s finding it a lot more amusing. “You’re really serious about this?” He asks.

“I am.  My job is very important to me; I’ve worked hard to get here, and I will do everything in my power to keep my position.” Louis states matter-of-factly.

“Including pretending to marry your assistant?” Harry asks.

“Including  _actually_  marrying my assistant.” Louis corrects. “It would have to be done officially.  Gay marriage is now legal in Britain, might I remind you.  If it’s not official, the company would find out and all this would go to waste.”

Harry licks his lips and thinks it over for a few moments. “Okay, yeah.  I’ll do it.  But I have a few conditions.”

“What are they?” Louis asks absently.  He’s heard Harry’s consent, and now that he doesn’t need to focus all his energy on trying to persuade the younger man, he’s deemed it acceptable to turn back to the manuscript still looming over his head.

He’s interrupted by an impossibly large hand slamming onto the papers in front of him, obstructing his view.

“No, we’ll discuss them over coffee and pastries at the café down the street.  Your treat.” Harry orders, an empowered grin on his face as he  _finally_  gets the opportunity to challenge his boss’s authority after all these years.

Louis laughs, cold and short and humorless. “I hardly think so.  I have a manuscript to edit.”

“But,  _honey_ , this is a deal-breaker.” Harry says, fixing Louis with a disgustingly smug grin.

“Fucking fine then.” Louis snaps, standing up and glancing at his watch yet again.  If he hurries, maybe he can make this whole coffee excursion last no more than twenty minutes.  With one more wistful look at his manuscript, he turns to walk out of the office, Harry at his side.

“That’s the spirit,” Harry says sarcastically, but he’s still grinning as they walk through the office and back into the lift.

“What are your terms?” Louis asks as soon as they’re alone and safely hidden out of earshot in the lift.

“Does this look like a café to you?” Harry asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“We can talk on the way there.” Louis points out, rolling his eyes.

“An office lift is hardly romantic.”

“Are you really going to be like this?”

“Need I remind you?   _You’re_  the one who needs  _me_.”

Louis sighs and nods reluctantly. “Fine,” he grumbles just as the chrome doors slide open on the ground floor.  The two walk in silence until they reach the coffee shop, and Harry orders an extra-large espresso as well as four different pastries before grabbing a booth in the corner of the restaurant and leaving Louis to pay for the order.

By the time Louis has paid for and collected the order, he’s about ready to dump the coffee on Harry’s head.  He drops the food and drinks on the table at such a height that coffee sloshes out of the side of the cups and spills across the table, and though Harry grins mockingly up at him, he remains silent as he wipes the spill up with a napkin.

“Terms.   _Now_.” Louis snaps, sliding into the booth on the side opposite Harry and taking his coffee out of the cardboard tray.

Harry scoops a raspberry scone out of the bag, licking a drop of smeared jam off his pinkie finger. “Okay, fair enough.  Term one: you will be perfectly pleasant to me, and you will treat me as an _equal_  – not as your assistant.”

Louis grimaces. “Outside of work, sure.  At work, however, you  _are_  my assistant, and therefore I will treat you as such.”

“Which brings me to my next point.  I want you to make me an editor.” Harry says, and Louis stops to look up at him with a blank look on his face. “An actual, proper editor.  Effective tomorrow morning.”

A short laugh escapes Louis’s mouth – a dry chuckle of disbelief. “What makes you think I can—”

Harry cuts him off, already knowing what he’s going to say. “You’re the editor-in-chief; you’ve got the power.  I’ve spent the past 3 years as your assistant, getting you coffee and answering your phone calls and booking and cancelling appointments for you.  This isn’t what I wanted to do when I entered this field; I wanted to be an editor, I wanted to help make books.”

Louis sighs and nods. “Yeah, okay.  Fine, tomorrow morning I’ll fill out the paperwork for your promotion.  Anything else?”

“You’re coming with me to my parents’ house this weekend.  If they find out that I’m getting married to someone that they didn’t even know I was  _dating_ , they’ll be proper pissed.  I need you to come to help me break the news.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Fine, but we have to act like a real couple this weekend – at least, around other people.  Nobody can know that this is fake, understand?"

Harry nods, biting back a laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

“What are you grinning about?”

“I can’t picture you acting romantic and couple-y, that’s all.” Harry explains with a shrug, taking a bite out of his scone. “Have you even had a single date in the last three years?”

Louis stiffens up. “That’s a very inappropriate question.” He snaps, having half a mind to reach up and shove Harry’s scone into his face.

“I’m your fiancé, Louis; I have a right to know about your previous lovers.” Harry says with a patronizing smile.

Louis presses his lips into a tight line. “I’ve had a few dates, yes; however, they’ve all ended in complete and utter failure, and none of them have resulted in a second date.” Harry opens his mouth – to make a sarcastic remark, by the looks of it – but Louis cuts him off before he has the chance. “Now, if you’ve finished all your terms, I’ve got to get back to w—”

“Not so fast.” Harry says. “There’s one more thing.”

Louis sighs and rubs at his temples. “What is it?”

Harry crosses his arms and grins mischievously. “You haven’t actually proposed to me.”

Before he can stop it, a derisive scoff escapes Louis’s lips. “Very funny.” He mutters.

“I’m not kidding.  If we’re getting married, you’re getting down on one knee and proposing to me properly.” Harry says matter-of-factly.

Louis scans the café; it’s busy enough that if he really does slide down on one knee and propose, he’s sure to make a scene.  But a quick look at the determined look on Harry’s face tells him that he’s not getting out of this without doing  _exactly_  what Harry wants.

With a slight grimace, Louis climbs out from behind the table and sinks down onto one knee, trying not to think about the fact that his  _very_  expensive suit is actually coming in contact with the disgusting floor of a public restaurant.  Harry stands up, towering over him, and holds his hands out to Louis, wiggling his fingers to prompt him.  Louis complies, taking Harry’s large hands in his own.

“Will you marry me?” Louis grumbles, trying to disguise the words as a cough.  He casts a panicked glance at the rest of the restaurant; so far, only one or two people have noticed, and they seem to be doing nothing more than watching in polite silence.

“Say it like you mean it,  _babe_.” Harry says with a self-satisfied grin.

Louis clears his throat, increasingly aware that more and more people are starting to notice them. “Harry… _my love_ ,” he tries not to gag over the overly-sappy pet name. “Will you please, please, _please_  marry me?”

The people in the café start to murmur excitedly, elbowing their neighbors and pointing at the two men in a way that Louis supposes is meant to be discreet.

“Where’s the ring?” Harry coos with false enthusiasm, clearly enjoying the process of making his boss as uncomfortable as possible.

Louis clenches his jaw and snatches Harry’s doughnut off the table, avoiding the side with a large bite missing from it, and slides the sticky pastry over Harry’s ring finger.

“Fine, I’ll do it.  But you’d better get your act together and buy me a real ring if you want this marriage to work.” Harry teases, lifting his hand to his face and taking another bite of the doughnut.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Louis hisses sarcastically.  He reaches up, gesturing for Harry to help him, but Harry just smiles down at him and gives him a condescending pat on the head.

“Pack your stuff tonight; tomorrow after work, we’ll head down to my parents’ place for the weekend.” Harry says simply.  He turns and walks out of the restaurant, leaving Louis by himself on one knee, still under the watchful eyes of the other restaurant patrons.

-

  When Harry’s cab pulls to the curb in front of Louis’s apartment, he’s hardly surprised to see that it looks more like a 5-star hotel than an apartment; he always figured Louis would live in the most posh place in London.

  However, he  _is_  a little surprised to see that Louis is still wearing his finest suit when he comes out of the lobby, towing a (rather expensive-looking) leather trunk behind him.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Louis sniffs warily, moving back to the boot of the car to try and stow away his trunk.

  “We’re going to my parents’ place in Holmes Chapel, not to a business conference.  Why are you dressed like that, anyway?” Harry laughs.  He leans back and watches, making no move to help as Louis struggles to fit his heavy trunk into the small boot without crushing Harry’s bag, which is already tucked away inside.

  Louis grunts with the effort as he finally gets his bag to fit somewhat comfortably, reaching up and stretching onto the tips of his toes to slam the boot shut. “What’s wrong with wanting to make a good first impression?  Besides, I barely own anything other than suits.”

  Harry shakes his head in disbelief. “Well, take a seat.  Try not to wrinkle your precious suit.”

  Louis seems to notice for the first time that he’s about to climb in to a cab. “Why are we taking a taxi all the way up to Holmes Chapel?” He asks, but he reluctantly climbs in next to Harry anyway.

  “We’re not.  We’re taking the tube, which will drop us off at the train station in Northampton, and _that_  will take us to Holmes Chapel.  The cab will just take us to the tube.” Harry explains.

  Louis grimaces, looking so horrified Harry half-expects him to actually scream. “You mean… I have to take the  _tube_?  In one of my best suits?” He demands.

  Harry grins. “ _Now_  you see why I was laughing at you.”

  The cab takes off, leaving Louis to turn and glare out the window and contemplate exactly how much he regrets choosing  _Harry_ , of all people.

  “I picked up our engagement rings.” Louis says after a few moments of thick silence.  He fishes the box out of his pocket and practically throws it at Harry, holding up his other hand to show that he’s already wearing his.

  The cab driver’s eyes flick up in the rearview mirror, evidently trying to catch a glimpse of the supposed lovers’ spat going on in his back seat, and Harry pretends not to notice.

  He plucks the ring out of the box and slides it onto his finger, and tries not to think about the fact that the entire fake-engagement just got a whole lot more real. “Fancy,” he mutters, spinning it around his finger a few times.

  “Nothing but the best for my Harry.” Louis says, suddenly noticing the curious glances they’re still getting from the cab driver.  He reaches over hesitantly, patting Harry’s cheek.

  Harry blinks at him. “Don’t do that.” He says.

  Louis pulls his hand back, wipes it off on the leg of his trousers as if that will help undo the action. “Yeah, okay.”

-

  The two don’t speak again until after they’ve gotten off the tube (though it was quite a struggle for Louis to pull his trunk up the stairs, and Harry seemed perfectly content to do nothing but watch and laugh and offer no help whatsoever).

  Louis blinks a few times, struggling to figure out where he is.  To one side, he can see a few small winding roads and various buildings – a small town, he figures.  To the other, though, there’s nothing except grassy pastures and a few grazing cows, divided up by old rickety fences.  The sloping hills run as far as the eye can see, interrupted only by the occasional lonely winding road.

  When Harry turns to walk toward the countryside, however, Louis finds himself rather confused.

  “I thought you said we were going to the train station.  Shouldn’t that be downtown?” Louis points out.

  “Not here.  I told you, it’s about a 20 minute walk to the train station from here, just past that hill over there.” Harry says, the end of his sentence punctuated by a distant train whistle as if to prove his point.

  Louis glances down at his expensive fine leather Italian shoes before giving a skeptical look at the mucky ground standing between him and the supposed train station. “Why couldn’t we just have taken a direct train from London?  Surely there’s an easier – and quicker – way to get to Holmes Chapel.” Louis says.

  Harry shrugs and starts walking toward the hill on a small dirt pathway, tugging his bag behind him. “Once you get on the train, the scenery is beautiful for the rest of the ride.  Besides, it’s cheaper.”

  “ _I_  could have paid for it.” Louis grumbles, trying to lift his trunk up off the ground to avoid a particularly disgusting-looking mud puddle in the middle of the gravel.

  “Did you completely miss the part about the beautiful scenery?” Harry asks, and Louis isn’t sure if the sound he makes is closer to a scoff or a chuckle.

  “Yeah, well the ‘scenery’ is sticking to my shoes.” Louis points out with an irritated sigh, hopping on one leg and shaking his foot, trying to flick a glob of muck off the bottom of his shoe.

  Harry rolls his eyes. “Y’know, Mr. Tomlin –  _Louis_ ,” he corrects. “You can’t pay your way through life.”

  “I’m not trying to ‘pay my way through life’, I’m just trying to pay my way through a decent transportation system that doesn’t smell of cow manure.” Louis grumbles under his breath.

  If Harry hears him, he doesn’t acknowledge it; he simply continues to press on even louder. “Sometimes, it’s nice to take the long way and enjoy what’s around you.  Do you even read books to _enjoy_  them anymore?”

  Louis scoffs. “Of course I do, I’m an  _editor_.  What kind of editor doesn’t read books?”

  “Every time you pick up a book, all you can do is criticize it.  Every few minutes, you have to pull someone over and point out a grammatical error or plot hole or spacing issue.  You can’t just read for fun; you have to bring your work into everything.”

  “Once again, I am an  _editor_.” Louis repeats pointedly.

  Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re so stubborn.” He says, but – and Louis isn’t entirely sure he’s not just imagining this – there seems to be the smallest fond undertone to his voice.

  Louis pulls a face as he hops over another puddle, but he doesn’t protest. “Enough with the annoying life lessons.” He says. “If we’re going to look like a real couple around your parents – and _especially_  if we’re going to be ready by the time the company throws that engagement party – we need to learn more about each other.”

  “You mean,  _you_  need to learn more about  _me_.” Harry says.

  “What are you on about now?”

  “I know plenty about you; you, however, know almost nothing about me.” Harry explains.

  “That’s not true.” Louis sniffs.

  Harry clears his throat and straightens up, looking smug even though he hasn’t actually said anything yet. “Your favourite film is  _Grease_ , your favourite colour is blue, you’re absolutely terrified of spiders and birds, you can’t even cook toast without burning it and occasionally starting a small fire, your birthday is Christmas Eve, you can’t start your day without a blueberry muffin and French vanilla espresso coffee, you go to ridiculous spas every other weekend to try and de-stress but you just take your work with you, meaning you come home even  _more_  stressed than you were before you left…need I go on?”

  Louis continues walking in stunned silence for a few moments, trying to understand how the  _hell_ Harry knows all this about him, before he finally collects himself enough to speak. “Once.”

  “What?” Harry asks, brow furrowed.

  “I only started a fire  _once_  when cooking toast.” Louis explains, voice small.

  One side of Harry’s full lips quirk up into a grin, a dimple forming in his cheek. “My mistake,” he says sarcastically.

  “I know about you, too!” Louis protests, shifting the focus back onto the matter at hand.

  “Oh?” Harry presses, a challenge in his tone.

  “Your middle name is Edward, you’re two years younger than me, you graduated six years ago from King’s College of London—”

  Harry interrupts him. “No, that doesn’t count.  That’s all stuff you read when you were looking through my file for those monthly employee reports.  Tell me something personal.  I’ve been your assistant for three years; it shouldn’t be hard.”

  Louis blinks, mouth slightly agape and just  _waiting_  for his brain to give him the words, but none come. “Uh…” He stammers dumbly.

  “That’s what I thought.” Harry says, and Louis can practically  _see_  his smug attitude rolling off him in waves.

  “Shut up,” Louis grumbles lamely. “Here’s something I know about you: you’re annoyingly smug.”

  “You’re such a charmer,  _babe_.” Harry coos sarcastically.

  “How did you learn all that stuff about me, anyway?” Louis mutters, trying not to sound too out-of-breath as they start to climb up the hill.  The slope is much steeper than it looked when they got off the tube, Louis realizes, but Harry doesn’t seem to be struggling with it at all, and so he’s determined to do the same.

  “Need I repeat that I’ve been your assistant for—” Harry starts.

  “Three years – yeah, yeah, I get it.  But that doesn’t explain how you know all this.”

  “Sure it does.  I was the one you called over to put out that fire you made when you tried to make toast, I’m the one who has to go get your blueberry muffin and French Vanilla coffee, I’m the one who has to book those appointments to the spa and confirm your reservation, and I’m the one who sees you pack all your work up along and take it with you when you leave for your appointments.  I’m also the one who has to face your wrath when you return the next Monday, even more irritable.” Harry explains.

  Louis can barely hold back the panting gasps as he tries to climb up the hill, still determined not to let Harry hear him struggle.  He makes a mental note to turn the slope up higher on his treadmill when he gets home. “I draw the line there!  I do not have  _wrath_.” He insists.

 “If you say so.” Harry says mildly. “But you’re still trying to change the subject.  The fact is, you have one weekend to learn everything you can about me before we head back to work on Monday, where everyone will expecting us to start acting like a real couple and asking us questions about our ‘hidden relationship’.”

  “Fine.  What’s your…favourite colour?” Louis asks, trying to disguise a gasp for air as an exasperated sigh.

  Harry laughs. “How will knowing my favourite colour help us seem more like a couple?”

  They finally walk past the peak of the hill, and Louis is relieved to see that, from hereon out, it should be a nice downhill walk to the station.

  Louis shrugs. “How does knowing that I once started a small fire while making toast make us seem more like a couple?”

  “It’s one of those cute stories that people in relationships always talk about.  It’s small talk to make at parties.  Besides, I  _was_  the one who put the fire out, so it makes it sound like we spend time together doing domestic things.  A little bit of twisting and a few white lies, and suddenly we have a story about the time you tried to surprise me with breakfast in bed, but you started a fire and had to wake me up so I could help you stop my apartment from burning down in flames.” Harry says, and he fixes Louis with an ‘ _I-told-you-so_ ’ look.

  “Why were we in your apartment?” Louis sniffs.

  “First of all, don’t get your knickers in a twist; it’s just a hypothetical situation.  Secondly, why _wouldn’t_  we be in my apartment?”

  “Because, mine is right in the heart of downtown London, and, not to be rude, but I do sign and deliver your paycheck every week, and the only apartment you could afford is some run-down little bachelor pad.” Louis says, and it’s not until Harry shoots him a little grimace that he realizes that statement was harsher than he thought.  Perhaps he  _has_  become a little too rude for his own good, just like Mr. Cowell said; even worse, now he seems to have lost control of it.  He doesn’t want to be mean on impulse (not outside of his work, anyway).

  Harry, however, has worked for Louis long enough to know that sometimes Louis doesn’t mean to be such an ass. “I’ll pretend not to notice that you’ve changed the subject  _yet again_ , but my point still stands;  _you’re_  the one who needs to learn more about me.  And you’ve only got this weekend to do that, so…good luck.”

  Louis scowls, but he doesn’t say anything more on the subject; he knows Harry is right, and he also knows that Harry is doing him a big favour in going through with the whole engagement.  The way Louis sees it, the least he can do is swallow his pride and agree when he knows Harry has a point.  He’s just not sure how long he can do this; their plan for a one-year marriage seems like more and more of a mistake.  With each conversation they have, Louis starts to see more of Harry, starts to see him as an actual  _person_  and not just the kid who gets him coffee and handles his phone calls and listen to him bitch all day without saying a word.  In reality, Harry is a smart, sarcastic, _irritatingly_  smug kid, and Louis doesn’t even know if he was seeing someone before this whole fake-engagement came up.

  For a brief second, Louis contemplates just calling this whole thing off and telling Harry to spend this week with his family while Louis does damage control back at the company, makes up some story about how ‘going public just added too much pressure’ or something.  And then suddenly he remembers that his job is on the line, and he needs this engagement to be public, and the marriage to last long enough that he actually looks like a changed man, and all his thoughts of backing out are silenced.

-

  “ _Harry_!”

  Louis is practically bowled over as a young woman rushes past him, throwing her arms around Harry and squeezing him in what looks like a borderline-painful hug.  Louis isn’t entirely sure what to do – he’s not even sure who this woman is – so he’s left standing by himself, watching the two hug and shifting back awkwardly onto his heels.

  “Gem!” Harry declares, dropping his bags to reciprocate the hug, and Louis bites back a curse as Harry’s trunk lands on his foot.

  “Mum and Gran are waiting at home – we couldn’t fit everyone in the car at the same time.” The woman explains.  She takes a step back and holds Harry away at arms’ length. “Look at you!  My baby brother, all grown up.”

  Harry barely manages to dodge her hand as she reaches in to pinch his cheek. “Could you  _be_  any more embarrassing?” He asks, but his sentence is punctuated with a laugh.  Louis isn’t sure he’s ever seen him look happier.

  “You said in your email that you were going to be bring along a ‘special someone’.  Where is she?” Harry’s sister asks, craning her neck to inspect the crowd of people surrounding her.

  Harry clears his throat thickly. “Um, actually,  _he_ ’s right behind you.” He says, turning a bit and gesturing to Louis.  His arm hesitantly snakes around Louis’s waist, his hand firm on his hips but no other parts of their bodies coming in contact.  Louis isn’t sure it looks convincingly romantic, but he’s pretty sure that Harry’s sister is too busy processing the fact that Harry’s ‘special someone’ is a man to notice.

  Louis raises his hand in a shaky wave and tries to give her a smile, but he doesn’t know how sincere the expression is.  Harry was openly gay back at the office, but Louis was just now starting to consider the fact that Harry might not have come out to his family – until now, that is.

  “Oh, y – oh,” is all the woman can say.

  “Louis, this is my sister, Gemma.  Gemma, this is my boyfriend – and, funnily enough, my boss.” Harry says, his voice stretched just a  _bit_  too thin, like he’s trying to make a joke to cover his nerves but he can’t quite do it.

  Gemma lets go of Harry, crosses her arms over her chest, pops her hip out to one side, and just scrutinizes Louis for a moment, eyes narrowing and lips pursing.  Louis feels his stomach rumble with butterflies, and he slips his hand down to where Harry’s is still resting on his hips, intertwining their fingers and giving a light squeeze.  He tells himself it’s just to make them look more like a real couple, doesn’t let himself wonder over the other possible reasons behind the intimate action.

  Finally, after what feels like  _hours_ , Gemma claps her hands together delightedly and flashes the two men a wide grin. “An office romance, how  _romantic_!”

  Louis can feel Harry’s tensed body relax, and as he lets himself slouch over, their bodies start to melt together a little bit, Harry’s tall frame leaning against Louis’s.

  “Yeah, well…my Louis here is a sucker for romance.  Aren’t you, you little sap?” Harry says, reaching over to pinch Louis’s cheek with surprising force.

  Louis winces, but tries to put on a convincingly flirtatious smile for Gemma’s sake. “Oh, he’s lying.  He’s always been the big romantic film fan in the house.  Still can’t make it through a single romantic comedy without crying like a little girl.” Louis says, then realizes his words might be too obviously mocking, so he quickly grins and adds, “It’s just so adorable.”

  Harry chuckles, the sound tight and forced. “You little joker.  He always picks out the films we watch; I’d be happy watching a good action flick, but Lou-bear here insists on watching some cheesy romance movie.”

  “Lou-bear?  Oh, that’s precious.” Gemma says, but her tone is a little uncertain, evidently sensing the tension between the two. “Well, Mum is probably wondering where we are, so we should probably get going.”

  Harry nods, lets go of Louis’s waist, and picks up his bags again, leaving Louis by himself to try and carry his massive trunk.

  “Harry, aren’t you going to help Louis with his bags?” Gemma asks, giving her brother a pointed look.

  Harry shrugs, not even sparing Louis a curious glance. “Oh, no.  He  _hates_  it when I help him outside of work; it’s awkward enough being his assistant and working for him.  He likes doing things for himself when he can.” He explains.

  “Yep, that’s me: completely self-sufficient.” Louis grumbles.

  Harry continues on like Louis hasn’t said anything. “Good thing I’m getting that promotion to editor, eh Lou-bear?”

  Gemma’s face lights up, and she spends the rest of the walk to the car gushing over Harry, stressing how proud she is of his promotion.  The two pay absolutely no mind to Louis, barely even remembering to leave the car door unlocked so he can slide into the back seat.

  It’s a long ride to Harry’s home – though it feels much longer to Louis, who has nothing to do for the ride but sit in the back seat and stare out the window, absently listening in to Harry and Gemma’s conversation (he tries to join in a few times, but Harry quickly manages to shift the conversation away from Louis, and after a while he just gives up.  Really, Louis can’t blame him; this is Harry’s family, who he hasn’t seen in  _ages_ , and Louis is just his boss – as well as the man who roped him into a fake engagement).

  Louis has just prepared himself for a long weekend of being left out of family conversations when the car pulls to a stop in front of an insanely large, beautiful grey stone house.  The house is surrounded by lush green trees, and he can see what looks like a small forest starting out back of the house, and though he wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, this  _definitely_  isn’t it.

  He climbs out of the car, and can hear the sound of waves crashing.  Craning his neck, he can see that, sure enough, there’s a lake bordering the backyard, crystal blue and beautiful.  He can also see three high-end glossy cars parked in the open garage, and he has to make a conscious effort not to let his jaw drop.

  “You didn’t tell me you were loaded!” He hisses in Harry’s ear, just quiet enough that Gemma has no hope of hearing.

  Harry shrugs. “I’m not; my  _parents_  are.  The family business became pretty damn profitable, what can I say?”

  “Well, you could have said  _something_.” Louis huffs.

  “Why does it matter?  It’s not like I care how much money you make, even though you’re obviously filthy rich.” Harry says.

  Louis sighs and grabs his trunks from the boot of Gemma’s truck, smacking Harry with it as he pulls it out.  Gemma sees him, and gives them a strange look.

  “Oh, just ignore him.  The poor lug has never really had much hand-eye coordination.  Or upper body strength.  Or  _lower_  body strength.” Harry says, wrapping an arm around Louis’s shoulder and flashing a grin to try and disguise the mocking edge to his words as the three of them make their way inside the house.

  As soon as they’re inside, Louis finds himself once again being practically pushed out of the way by people all hurrying to hug Harry, cooing affectionate assurances of ‘ _missed you so much_ ’ and ‘ _so happy you’re here_ ’ and peppering his face with kisses.

  “If I didn’t love the kid so much, I’d hate him for being the favourite child.” Gemma murmurs in Louis’s ear, a grin stretching at her lips so widely that her eyes crinkle at the edges.

  It makes Louis feel uncomfortable to be here, watching Harry huddle with his family, because he knows he doesn’t belong here.  He kind of feels like a puppy that trailed along with Harry, unwanted and rejected, but even worse, because he pretty much  _forced_  himself onto this trip.

  Harry suddenly remembers that Louis is even there, and after a few more hugs he separates himself from his family, giving Louis a pat on the shoulder. “Oh, yeah.  Before I forget, this is my boyfriend, Louis.” He says, deciding to go for the subtle approach, hoping that his family won’t make a big deal of it if he doesn’t.

 ‘ _Before you forget_?’ Louis mouths to Harry, but the curly-haired man just rolls his eyes in response.  He’s not going to ask why Harry won’t introduce him as his fiancé – as much as he might dislike this whole situation, he understands that this is something Harry has to admit on his own time.

 Harry’s mum, however, just turns to Louis and smiles, wrapping him in a tight hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Louis.  I’m Harry’s mum – you can call me Anne – and this is his gran, Betty.”

  Harry can hardly believe his mum is being so laid back about this (though, to be fair, Anne  _has_ used a surprising amount of gender-neutral pronouns ever since Harry had that secret boyfriend in high school that, he’d told his family, was just one of his teammates from the school football team).

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Louis says, trying not to feel too uncomfortable in the tight hug.  It’s been a while since he’s been any more intimate with a total stranger than just a professional business-related handshake.

  Anne’s smile falters a little at Louis’s uptight response, but she seems determined to keep up the warm, welcoming front. “Harry, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve put together a little surprise for you.”

  Harry lights up like a little boy on Christmas morning. “What is it?”

  “Come, come!  Leave your bags, we can get them later.” Anne says, leading everyone through the large house and out the back patio.

  The backyard is packed with people, all wearing posh-looking clothes and sipping from glasses of champagne and eating exotic hors d’oeuvres.  Louis feels like he should be more comfortable here, because  _this_  is the kind of thing he’s used to, but he can still see the way everyone looks up to Harry with a fond look and cheers for his arrival.  He doesn’t understand how he can feel so invisible, yet like he sticks out so much all at the same time.  His main worry, though, is that he won’t be able to survive this weekend.

  People swarm over to Harry, and all Louis can do is stand to the side and watch as people shake his hand, wrap him in hugs, press kisses to his cheeks.  Louis wonders how many people are at this party – there are  _at least_  seventy, and all of them seem to absolutely love Harry.  Granted, some of them look like friends of Anne or Betty, but they still greet him with warm smiles, and they’ve all gathered here to see  _him_.  Louis isn’t sure he’s ever had something like this.  The only parties thrown for him are company celebrations thrown every time he signs a big name or publishes an instant success.  Even then, all the guests are just showing up to be polite, or because they hope to schmooze with the big names in the company in the hopes of a raise or promotion.  It’s never for him, never to congratulate  _him_.  He’d never really minded before, never really thought he needed people to celebrate his accomplishments because he always  _knew_  when he’d done a good job, and that was enough.  But now, seeing all these people and the way they look at Harry, he wants to know how it feels to be in his shoes and to know that people genuinely care about him.

  Harry’s just finished greeting some of his friends when he feels someone tap his shoulder.

  “Haz, don’t you think you should include Louis?  He looks kind of…left out.” Gemma murmurs in his ear.

  Harry turns around to tell her to bugger off and that Louis is probably fine, when he catches sight of Louis’s face.  He tries to force a small smile, but Harry can see the sadness behind his eyes, the way the smile doesn’t touch the rest of his face.  The memory hits him, and he wonders how he could be so  _stupid_  as to have forgotten.  Louis doesn’t have a family, not anymore; his parents and sisters died when their car got stuck on a railroad and were hit by a train.  He remembers hearing that Louis was pulled from the wreckage, the only survivor, just  _barely_  holding on.

  Harry takes a step back, away from the crowd of people, and gently takes Louis’s hand in his.  He gives him a smile and squeezes his hand, and though he knows it’s hardly reassuring, somehow it seems to reach Louis.

  ‘ _Thank you_ ,’ he mouths, and though the smile on his face still looks forced, there’s sincerity in his eyes.

  “And who is this?” Asks one of Betty’s friends, eyes lingering on Harry and Louis’s intertwined fingers.

  Gemma jumps in, a strong tone to her voice. “This is Louis, Harry’s boyfriend.” She says, and though there’s a smile on her face, Harry can  _hear_  the challenge in her voice – just daring anyone to say something about it.  Gemma’s always been the overprotective sort, he thinks with a slight smile.

  “Actually, that’s not entirely true.” Harry says, and the entire crowd quiets.  He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, questioning him, and even Louis seems confused.  He takes a deep breath, and Louis squeezes his hand back, reciprocating Harry’s earlier gesture.

  “Louis is…Louis is my fiancé.” Harry says finally.  Despite the fact that it’s still a lie, getting the words off his chest makes him feel lighter somehow.

  Gemma’s eyes widen, and she looks like she’s about to say something, but she’s cut off by a wave of celebratory applause that rushes through the small crowd.  Someone calls out for a toast – Harry’s not entirely sure who it is – and he’s grateful for the distraction as he and Louis try to hunt down an unclaimed fresh glass of champagne.

  Harry’s only just finished making the toast and getting a personal congratulations from almost everybody in attendance when his mum pulls him aside, walking him round the side of the house and not stopping until they’re safely out of earshot of anyone at the party.

  “I just want to say that I’m  _so_  proud of you for having the courage to come out like this – and to everyone at the party, too.  That’s a big step, and I’m just…I’m proud of you.” Anne repeats.

  Harry can sense that there’s a deeper, more pressing matter that Anne wants to discuss, and the anticipation sits low in his stomach. “Thanks, Mum.” He says, giving her a sincere smile, because even if she  _is_  just opening up to a more intrusive question, it’s still such a huge relief to know that his mum really does accept him for who he is.

  “So…tell me about Louis!” Anne says, and though she tries to sound nonchalant, Harry can hear the poorly-concealed pressing tone to her voice.

  “He’s really, um, great.  Very honest, very loyal.  I just…I love him!” He says with a laugh, and even he cringes when he hears how fake it sounds.

  Anne doesn’t look convinced, but she forces a nod and a smile. “Um, right.  Well, sweetie…I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Louis is great, but he doesn’t really seem like your type, that’s all.  I just want to make sure you really know what you’re getting into.  Marriage is a  _big_  step, and I know you kept it a secret – once again, I’m so proud of you for  _finally_  coming out, and I understand that you needed to take some time before you could tell the family – but I don’t even know how long you’ve been dating.  How serious is it now?  Do you even live together?”

  Harry tries to remember the answers to all these questions, but everything seems to escape him, so he settles for simply taking Anne’s hands in his. “I love you, Mum, but please trust me on this.  Louis and I have thought this through, and it’s what we both want.” It’s not  _technically_ a lie; he’s just leaving it open for Anne to interpret it however she likes.

  Anne sighs and leans up on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to Harry’s forehead (though he has to stoop down to help her reach). “I know, I’m worrying too much, aren’t I?  I just want to protect my baby.  No matter how big you are or what big promotions you may get, you’ll always be my baby.  You know that, right?”

  Harry nods, hugs his mum in tight. “Yeah, I know.”

  After a few moments, Anne chokes out a teary sigh and swats him away. “Oh, look at me, getting all sentimental.  You’ve got a party waiting for you!  I can only imagine the questions everyone has for Louis, you’d better go save him.”

  Harry complies, finding Louis standing right where he left him on the patio and trying to make small talk with the five or six people gathered around him despite the fact that he knows absolutely _nothing_  about any of these people.

  “Ah, there you are!  Louis was just about to tell us about the proposal.” Betty greets, her wrinkled face pinched up gleefully.

  Louis nod, trying not to glare at Harry.  He didn’t know what was so important that Harry had just _left_  for 20 minutes without saying anything, but he’d as good as deserted Louis, leaving him completely on his own surrounded by people he didn’t know, all asking him questions and pestering him for information on their ‘relationship’.

  “Go on, Louis, tell us!” Gemma prods, and everyone quiets down to listen.

  Louis decides that, if he’s going to have his revenge, he’s going to have it  _now_. “Oh, it was  _so_  cute, really.  It was on Valentine’s day.  Harry had arranged for us to go to Paris.  We went out for lunch at this romantic little restaurant, and Harry  _insisted_  that we feed each other – so sweet, isn’t he?  He’s always been a big softie—”

  Harry jumps in before Louis can take this any further, because there is  _no way_  he’s letting him get away with this. “I thought I  _needed_  to take us out on a romantic getaway, actually, because Louis had been acting so strange.  I thought maybe he was seeing someone else, thought we had to rekindle the romance, but as it turns out he had just been waiting to ask me—”

  It’s Louis’s turn to cut him off now. “To move in with me.  Yeah.  I mean, we’d been staying at my place for ages, and he really might as well have been living with me, but I wanted to make it official.  Turns out, Harry had a much  _bigger_  question for me—”

  “I just came right out and asked him if he was cheating on me.” Harry says, trying to fake choking back sobs. “Yeah.  It was a hard question to ask, but I just  _needed_  to know.  It broke Louis’s heart to hear that question, and he wanted to prove that he loved me, so he got down on one knee right there in the middle of the restaurant – it was just overlooking the Eiffel tower, too, it was  _so_ romantic – and he pulls out this gorgeous ring, and silent tears start streaming down his face as he takes my hand and says, ‘Harry, the light and love of my life, my sun and my stars—’”

  Louis is having  _none_  of this, and decides to cut his losses. “‘Will you marry me?’  And he said yes, the end.  Can I get another drink?”

  Harry bites back a smirk at his bitter tone because he  _knows_  he’s won. “He’s so adorable, isn’t he?” He says, pinching at Louis’s cheek patronizingly, nearly making him choke on the mouthful of champagne he’s gulping down.

  “I think that deserves another toast!” Gemma declares, holding up her glass. “To the happy couple!” By this point, Louis has already downed his drink, so he just gives everyone his best fake grin and raises his empty glass.

  “Oi, you two, why don’t you give a little smooch for the crowd?” Betty suggests, waggling her eyebrows.

  “No!” Harry yelps out, and everyone turns to give him a strange look. “I mean, um…we’re not really too big on the whole ‘public display of affection’ thing.”

  “Harry’s quite shy.  Aren’t you, darling?” Louis says, and though he gives him a smile, his eyes are still rather annoyed.

  “On second thought, why not?” Harry challenges.  He pushes his glass into the hands of whoever is next to him and turns to Louis, wraps one arm around his waist, and pulls him close, their bodies pressed against each other and melding together seamlessly.  With his free hand he reaches up and cups Louis’s jaw, tilts his face up, and then his lips are on Louis’s, intense and full and passionate.

  Louis drops his drink, empty glass shattering into small crystalline splinters on the wooden patio.  For a moment he freezes, and he genuinely doesn’t know how to respond, because he can’t even remember the last time he’s been kissed like this.  And then, just as he’s starting to think that maybe he had Harry figured all wrong (which is ridiculous as it’s just a  _kiss_ , but he’s forgotten to breathe and his brain is all foggy and he really didn’t think Harry would be such a good kisser, so all in all he’s just not thinking terribly straight), he feels Harry’s lips flicker into a smirk over his own, and suddenly it occurs to him that Harry’s trying to outdo him.

  Louis deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and letting his hand run through his curls, fingers knotting, and gives a light tug.  Unexpectedly, Harry gasps against his mouth, and Louis fights back a wicked grin as he realizes that  _he’s found Harry’s weakness_.

  Harry is determined to prove Louis’s point wrong, even though he  _knows_  it’s just one stupid little comment and he should have let it go, but he can’t.  His hands trail down Louis’s lower back, grabbing his arse, and Louis whimpers against his lips, his body shuddering, and Harry refuses to think about the way Louis’s reaction turns him on.

  “My  _God_ , Harry, that’s enough!” Gemma gasps, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back from Louis. “I get that you two are engaged, but please don’t make me watch my baby brother suck out his fiancé’s tonsils.” Despite her protests, the champagne has already made her a bit giggly and bubbly, and there’s still a dazed smile on her face.

  Harry takes a small step away from Louis and lets himself get swallowed up in the party, but he can’t bring himself to make eye contact with the other man for the rest of the night.

-

  The party eventually dies down, and by the time everyone has left it’s well past sundown.  Louis takes a moment to admire the stars glittering away in the inky black sky – a sight he doesn’t get in London.  Harry is off helping his mum and Gemma clear up, and Betty disappeared mysteriously about twenty minutes ago, leaving Louis by himself to walk along the shore of the lake.  He lets himself ponder over all the day’s events, because even though it was just a mere few hours ago that he was leaving his beloved office and heading back to his apartment, it feels like it’s been weeks.

  “Louis!  Come inside, Gran’s got a surprise for you and Harry.” Gemma calls from one of the open windows.

  Louis heaves a sigh and treks back into the house, where Harry is sitting at the bottom of the stairs.  He stands up as soon as he sees Louis, but the two don’t say a word to each other.

  “Come on, hurry up!” Betty calls from upstairs, peering down over the top of the banister.

  Harry sighs and gestures for Louis to go ahead of him, and he trails behind him as they trot up the stairs to find Betty waiting for them, a mischievous grin on her face.

  “I’ve got a little surprise for you two.” She says, turning and leading them down the hall.  She stops in front of a closed door and takes a little step back, waiting for them to open it.

  Harry’s eyes widen, realizing that whatever surprise she has is  _in his bedroom_ , and that can’t be good if it has something to do with Louis.  Nevertheless, he swings the door open and feels his stomach drop to his feet as he sees silky white sheets on a freshly made and turned-down bed, as well as a slew of lit candles flickering around the room.  There are even  _rose petals_  in the bed, for crying out loud.  The whole thing is a little cheesy, and very creepy considering it’s his gran that put it together, but he knows she had his best interests at heart.

  “Gee, thanks Gran.  It’s…wow, it’s perfect.  Really romantic, eh love?” Harry says, giving Louis a little nudge.

  Louis swallows thickly and tries to smile. “Thank you so much, Betty.”

  Betty swats Louis’s arm lightly. “Nonsense, you’re family now!  You can call me ‘Gran’ too, if you like.”

  Louis tries not to cringe. “Okay.” He says weakly, making a mental note to avoid ever addressing her by any sort of name or title from hereon out.

  “Now, go on you two!  Don’t worry about the noise; we had Harry’s walls soundproofed when he started playing guitar back when he was fourteen.  So, sweet dreams!  That is, if you get any sleep.” Betty winks, patting both men on the shoulder before turning and hobbling off down the hallway.

  Harry sighs and buries his face in his palms.  It serves him right, really; Louis is the first person he’s ever brought home, and he can’t blame his family for getting this excited – especially considering it’s his  _fiancé_.

  Louis immediately bursts into the room and leaps onto the bed, burrowing under the sheets despite the fact that he’s still in his clothes. “I call the bed; you can take the floor.”

  Harry pulls a face. “Why do I get the floor?  It’s  _my_  bed.”

  “But  _I’m_  a guest.”

  “I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

  “Well, neither am I.”

  Harry frowns. “There’s got to be another solution.  We’re both mature, grown men.  We can sleep in the same bed without it being a big deal.  Unless, of course, you’re so insecure that you’d rather sleep on the floor.”

  Louis scowls. “Fine, we’ll share the bed.  But get rid of the rose petals and candles first.” He says, standing up and fetching his pajamas from his suitcase that someone must have moved upstairs at some point during the evening.  He spots an open door leading to a bathroom, and turns back to Harry with an incredulous look. “You have your own  _bathroom_?”

  “I believe it’s called an ‘ensuite’, and they’re not that uncommon.” Harry says condescendingly, brushing as many rose petals as he can into his hands and dropping them in the bin.

  Louis rolls his eyes. “Not in any room other than the master bedroom.   _Especially_  not in someone’s childhood bedroom.” He mutters, but before Harry can reply he slips into the bathroom and changes into his night clothes.  He takes a few moments to splash cold water onto his face and brush his hair into place with his fingers.  He reaches for his cologne only to realize that he left it in his bag, and so, with no other options, he sprays a bit of aerosol air freshener onto his hands and pats it into the skin around his neck.  It doesn’t smell too different from any cheap aftershave (though it’s still no comparison to his expensive designer cologne), and he feels rather pleased with himself.

  He walks back into the bedroom and nearly yelps out with surprise when he sees Harry standing in nothing but his boxers, his smooth toned back bare and facing Louis as he rummages through his bag for a shirt to wear to bed.

  Louis clears his throat awkwardly and turns to Harry’s closet, helping himself to a hanger to hang up his suit.  He slides between the silky sheets and rolls away from Harry, trying not to think about the fact that Harry was just starting to pull down his boxers when he last looked.  He feels oddly clammy and nervous, and he doesn’t know what to attribute it to.

  After a few moments of listening to Harry’s footsteps pad across the room and fabric rustling as he pulls various clothes on, Louis hears the lights click off and the mattress sink down with Harry’s weight as he sinks into bed next to Louis.

  “Are you awake?” Harry whispers.

  “No,” Louis drawls sarcastically.  He rolls onto his back and turns his head to look at Harry, and is surprised to see that, with nothing but the moonlight filtering in through his bedroom window and catching in his wide emerald eyes, he looks almost like an innocent child.

  The innocent look vanishes, though, as Harry rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Louis in the shin. “Wanker,” he grumbles under his breath.  He settles deeper into the mattress and nuzzles his face into the blanket, preparing to go to sleep.

  Louis gulps, trying to find the power to speak. “Hey, um…Harry?”

  “Yeah?” Harry’s words are muffled by the pillow, but distinguishable nevertheless.

  “Thanks.  For, y’know, doing all this.” He stammers out nervously.

  Harry glances up at him curiously, but says nothing.

  “I really mean it.” Louis says, voice sincere.

  “You’re welcome.” Harry says with a slight nod, though he’s  _still_  not sure he heard Louis correctly; if he did, that would be the first time after 3 years of working for him that he’s ever gotten a ‘thank you’ from him.

  Harry shifts a little closer to Louis and speaks, his voice a bit softer this time. “Today was almost kind of nice.”

  Louis raises an eyebrow.   _Almost_?   _Kind of_?  He decides not to ask about Harry’s word choice, though, because he can sense that this is not the right time. “What do you mean?”

  “I got to see you in a different light.  It’s nice to know that there’s more to you than just an uptight workaholic.  I like seeing this side of you.” Harry said.

  Once again, Louis decides to ignore the possibly offensive side to Harry’s words, deciding instead to turn and give him a smile that’s more sincere than he’d expected. “Oh,” is all he can find to say, but to Harry, Louis’s smile says enough.

-

  When Louis wakes up, he nearly screams and falls out of bed upon seeing Harry’s still-sleeping face just inches away from his own.  After a few moments, the events of the previous day come streaming back to him, and he gives himself a few moments to take some deep breaths and calm himself down from his near-heart attack.  Evidently at some time during the night, he and Harry had shifted closer to each other, their legs tangled up and their faces nearly pressed together.

  Just as his pulse has almost returned to normal, a loud knock on the door has him so startled that he can’t help but yelp out a curse, catching him while he’s still on-edge.

   Harry groans and rolls closer to Louis, his head resting on the smaller man’s chest, and raises one arm to scrub at his eyes. “Come in,”

  Anne opens the door and pokes her head in the room, a look of pure affection on her face as she sees the way Harry has curled up against Louis. “Oh, how  _cute_.” She murmurs.  She meets Louis’s eyes and shakes herself out of it with a quick apologetic smile. “I just wanted to let you boys know that breakfast is ready.”

  “Kay, Mum.  Down in a bit,” Harry grumbles foggily, raising a hand and sluggishly giving her a dismissive wave.

  As soon as he hears the door close behind her, though, Harry simply pulls the covers over his head and nuzzles into Louis’s chest.

  “Uh…Harry?” Louis says tentatively.

  Harry suddenly remembers that Louis is there, and he rolls off Louis in one blindingly quick movement. “Oh!” is all he can think of to say, so he practically yells it at Louis.

  Louis clears his throat and pulls the covers off himself. “I think I’ll just go downstairs for breakfast.” He says.  He can feel himself  _blushing_ , and he’s got no clue what that’s about, but he knows that he sure as hell doesn’t want Harry to see it.  He decides to completely hide his face until he’s out in the hall and out of Harry’s sight.  He pads down the hall and is halfway down the stairs before he decides that he doesn’t really want to face Harry’s family alone, so he leans against the wall and waits for him to come down.

 Five minutes later, a very sleepy-looking Harry pads down the hallways and trots down the stairs so fast he barely has time to notice Louis, barely avoiding a full-on collision. “What are you doing here?”

  Louis clears his throat awkwardly. “Thought I’d wait for you,” he explains.  He realizes that there is no polite way to tell Harry that he’s too intimidated by his family to have breakfast with them alone, so he decides to skip that part.

  “Oh.  Well, um…thanks.” He says, giving a hesitant grin.  He’s not entirely sure  _when_  he and Louis moved on to this somewhat friendly phase, but he finds himself thinking that he’s glad it happened.

  “How was your sleep?” Louis asks, desperate to fill the thick silence that sits between them as they walk down the stairs.

  “Good, uhm…it was good, yeah.  How about yours?” Harry stammers awkwardly.

  “Great.  Your bed is comfortable.” Louis says, but the more he thinks about that sentence the more it seems like it crosses some sort of line, so he quickly adds, “I mean, um, the mattress is nice.  Good lumbar support.”  He then proceeds to wonder if he even fully understands what ‘ _lumbar support_ ’ is, and mentally kicks himself a few times.

  Harry pulls a face, but luckily they reach the kitchen before he has to come up with some sort of reply.  He collapses down in his regular seat and immediately starts piling his plate high with pancakes, sausages, and scrambled eggs.

  “Make yourself at home, Louis.” Anne says, and so Louis hesitantly complies, taking the empty seat next to Harry and politely filling his plate with a  _normal_  amount of food, in comparison to the Godzilla-sized portions Harry is helping himself to.

  “Did you want any coffee, Louis?” Gemma asks as she pours herself a cup.

  Louis opens his mouth to reply, but Harry cuts him off. “He likes it with 2 creamers and 2 sugars.  Also…Gran, do we have any of those blueberry muffins you made for the party yesterday?” Harry says, and he’s shooting up out of his seat before Betty has a chance to reply.  He pulls a container full of them out from the panty with a victorious smile on his face, taking the mug of appropriately-sweetened coffee from Gemma and placing it in front of Louis.  Harry opens the lid to the container of muffins and holds it out to him, allowing Louis to pick which one he wants.

  “Thank you.” Louis says, and for the second time that morning he finds himself blushing, though he can’t figure out  _why_.  He plucks a muffin out of the container and nibbles on it, washing it down with his coffee, and even though he’s in a strange kitchen surrounded by unfamiliar people, it feels a little more homey to him.

  Anne and Betty exchange grins and Gemma watches them with a poorly-repressed proud smile, but neither of the two men seem to notice.

  “Oh, and I think we’ve still got some Yorkshire tea in the cupboard for you.  I know it’s your favourite.” Harry says, and he looks somehow eager, though Louis can’t figure out why.

  “Thanks,” Louis repeats, giving him a sheepish smile.  He feels like a fucking  _schoolgirl_ , with all the blushing and awkward replies.

  “Oh, before I forget, Niall Horan called.  He was out of town and had to miss the party, but he heard about the engagement and he  _insisted_  on taking you two out for drinks to celebrate.  He didn’t really give me a chance to talk, he just said he’d come by and pick you two up at around six o’clock tonight.” Anne says, shaking her head with a slight sigh as if this is typical.

  “I have an idea!” Gemma declares, slamming her mug down on the counter loudly.

  “Not another one,” Harry teases.

  Gemma ignores him. “Haz, why don’t you and Louis go out on a little date this afternoon?  There’s a carnival that’s just opened up in town.  Take my camera, snap a few cute pictures, and it’ll give us some photos of you and Louis to put up round the house.”

  Betty is nodding before Gemma has even finished. “Oh, please?” She asks, batting her eyelashes and pulling her best begging face.

  “Sure, Gran.” Harry says without even thinking about it (he never  _could_  say no to Betty).

  Louis sighs and takes a sip of his coffee, trying not to think about the upcoming day.  He’s finally reached slightly stable ground with Harry; today, they’ll be spending the day on a fake date all alone, and  _this_  is the make-or-break point for the rest of their ‘marriage’.

-

  The fair turns out to be just as cheesy and corny as Louis had pictured it.  There’s a small petting zoo set up, a few booths to win prizes (though they’re all obviously rigged to be damn near impossible to beat), several food stands, and dozens of rides of all sorts.  Normally, it’s the kind of thing that Louis would avoid like the plague, but now that he’s here, he’s actually kind of  _excited_.

  “Where do you want to start?” Louis asks, biting his lip to keep a smile from spreading across his face.

  Harry sees right through him, however, and it’s strange to see his boss looking actually happy for once.  “Your choice.  Do you like rides?”

  Louis shrugs. “Dunno.  Never been on one before.  Actually…I’ve never been to a fair before.”

  Harry’s heart gives a funny little twinge at that. “Well then, that settles it.  You have to try _everything_ ; I won’t let you leave unless I feel like you’ve had a proper first visit to the carnival.”

  Louis rolls his eyes a little, but he can’t help but blush and grin. “Okay, well…why don’t we start with that ride there?” He says, pointing to the biggest rollercoaster in the entire park.

  Harry’s eyes widen a little. “Are you sure you want to start with that one?”

  Louis nods. “If I try a smaller one and don’t like it, then I won’t want to go on any other ones at all.  If I try that one and don’t like it, then I can try working my way down.” He explains.

  Harry isn’t sure if that makes total sense, but he nods anyway. “Let’s go, then.” He says, taking a few steps in the general direction of the rollercoaster.

  “Um, Harry?” Louis says quietly.

  “Yeah?” Harry turns around and sees Louis glancing down at his hand.  He follows his eyes and is rather surprised to see that at some point, he had taken Louis’s hand in his own, their fingers tightly woven together.  He immediately throws himself into damage control mode. “Oh, right.  Um, I just thought…y’know, in case anyone from the party is here…it would be good if they saw us holding hands.  And stuff.” Harry stammers.

  “Right, yeah.  Good thinking.” Louis says, nodding and walking alongside Harry.  If he happens to shuffle in closer to Harry’s side, he pretends not to notice.

  Louis turns out to  _love_  the rollercoaster, though Harry never would have thought so.  For the entire ride, Louis ducks his head and clings to the support for dear life.  Harry can’t help but reach out to pat him on the back, and Louis seems to take this as a sign of welcome, as he quickly leans over and buries his face in Harry’s shirt.  It’s not until they get off the ride that he sees the bright spark in Louis’s eyes and the flush in his glowing cheeks that he notices just how  _delighted_  he looks.

  “Can we go on another one?” Louis asks eagerly.

 Harry can only nod and wonder how this is the same man he’s worked for for 3 years.  It’s scary, how much he’s starting to actually enjoy this fake date.

  And so, they spend the rest of the morning (and a sizeable part of the afternoon) going on various rides.  Harry lets Louis pick, and he always makes sure to sit at just the right angle on the rides, so that Louis can easily huddle into his side and snuggle into his chest when the ride starts (and Louis always does).  Harry even lets himself wrap his arms around Louis to hold him there, and it feels satisfying somehow.

  At around three o’clock, Louis pops off to go and get some ice cream, leaving Harry sitting at one of the fold-away chairs set up in a makeshift dining area.  By the time he returns, Harry is  _certain_ that Louis looks five years younger.  His hair is fluffed and windblown from the rides, he hasn’t been able to stop smiling all afternoon, and it’s the first time Harry has seen him wear anything but a suit.  Personally, Harry prefers the warm jumper and jeans that Louis has chosen.  Of course, the fact that Louis is holding an ice cream cone adds to his youthful appearance.

  Louis collapses in the chair next to Harry’s and passes him the extra ice cream cone. “Um, Harry…I wanted to say thanks for today.  I’m having a lot of fun.” He mumbles, not taking his lips away from his ice cream, like he can stifle his words if he says them into his cone.

  Harry thinks he grins, but he’s not sure he’s  _stopped_  grinning all day – for all he knows, his smile just gets wider. “Yeah, me too.” He pauses for a few seconds, just lingering in the moment, before speaking again. “Hey, we should probably get some pictures for Gemma.  She’ll be proper pissed if we come back without any photos.”

  Louis nods and leans in to Harry’s side, and though he feels like it should be awkward, somehow it isn’t.  He holds his ice cream up in front of him, mirroring Harry’s pose, and grins up at the camera as Harry angles it.  At the very last second, Harry swoops down and presses a kiss to Louis’s head – just as the flash goes off.  Louis smiles so wide he feels like his face is about to split in half, and he ducks down to hide his mouth in his jumper.

  Harry laughs and takes Louis’s hand in his own again, and this time he doesn’t have an explanation as to why, but he doesn’t really feel like he needs one.  He tilts his head and rests it against Louis’s, taking slow licks of his ice cream and just enjoying this, because something about it feels comfortable to him, familiar yet new, all at the same time.

  Out of the corner of his eye, though, he spots something that threatens to tear away this warm feeling bubbling up inside of him.

  A small girl, no more than 6 years old, is watching them attentively, a curious look on her face.  She turns to her mother next to her and tugs at her sleeve, pointing a tiny finger at Harry and Louis. “Mummy, why are those two men cuddling?”

  Harry gulps and keeps his eyes trained on the table in front of him, pretending not to notice, but he strains to listen to the woman’s reply.

  The woman sighs, and from Harry’s peripheral vision he can see her gently pull her daughter’s hand away to stop her from pointing. “Because they love each other very much, just like Mummy and Daddy.”

  “But they’re two men.” The girl says, and she doesn’t sound upset, just confused.

  “That doesn’t matter, sweetie.” The woman says gently.

  The girl looks at Harry for a moment longer before she turns to her mum with a wide grin. “Oh, okay.”

  Harry wants to go and hug that woman and her daughter.  He can tell Louis heard the conversation, too, because Louis looks up at him with a beaming grin that matches his own.

  They make a few more stops before leaving to get some pictures.  Harry’s personal favourite is the petting zoo, where Louis insists on feeding the animals.  Harry gets a great picture of the way Louis lights up when the horse’s soft lips tickle against his palm as it eats right out of his hand, and Harry considers getting himself a copy of that picture for his desk ( _strictly_  to make them look more like a couple to anyone who might see his office, of course).

  Before Louis knows it, it’s five o’clock and the fair is shutting down, and he can’t help but feel genuinely upset that the day is over.

  Harry, however, has a more pressing realization at hand. “Oh, crap.  Niall’s going to pick us up at six to go out for drinks.” He mutters, but he still can’t shake the feeling of complete bliss enough to put the proper amount of urgency behind his words.

  Louis grabs Harry’s hand and takes off, racing through the parking lot as quickly as he can, practically dragging the taller man behind him.  He doesn’t really know why, but after everything that happened today he feels kind of free, feels like he can be a complete  _idiot_  with Harry and he won’t even care.

  It feels amazing.

-

  What was supposed to be a ‘quick drink with Niall’ turned out to be a full-blown party at a local pub, with all of Harry’s old high school friends gathered there to celebrate.  Harry’s friends are all loud and raucous and wild (Louis suspects they all had a bit to drink before he, Harry, and Niall arrived) and, though Harry tries to include Louis at first, Louis manages to slip off onto the sidelines.  This is Harry’s night, and after all he did for Louis today, he figures he owes it to Harry to let him have this night with his friends without having to keep up the act.

  So, Louis finds himself sitting in a booth in the corner of the pub, nursing a pint and letting himself pour over his memories of his time at the fair and watching Harry absently as he hollers and laughs with his friends.  Louis realizes with a start that he hasn’t thought about his work yet this weekend, and he wonders if this is some sort of record for him.

  He’s just started to let his mind drift back to his work (mainly thinking up the messages he has to send out to various publicists to get ads out for Malik’s book now that the final draft has been edited) when someone sits down across the table from him in the small booth.

  “Hey!  You’re Louis, right?” Louis glances up from the table to see a tall man with warm brown eyes and a kind smile looking at him expectantly, a beer bottle clutched between his fingers.

  Louis nods. “Yeah, nice to meet you.” He says, hesitantly holding out his hand.  He’s not sure if people shake hands in casual situations – he’s never really been in a situation like this, and he doesn’t know what the social protocol is, to be honest.

  The man doesn’t seem to take the action as odd, however, and he shakes Louis’s hand warmly. “I’m Liam, I’m an old mate of Harry’s.  Well, I guess everyone here is, really.” He notes with a laugh, glancing over at the party.

  “I’ve noticed.” Louis says. “It’s great that he’s got so many friends here though.  We’ll have to try to stop by here more often.”

  “Harry said he wants to, but his asshole of a boss doesn’t give him enough time off.” Liam says with a grimace.

  Louis clears his throat awkwardly and realizes that the people at these party probably don’t know very much about him.  In fact, the only thing they probably know is that he’s engaged to Harry.  It makes sense, but it also leaves room for awkward conversations like this.

  “Yeah, what an asshole.” Louis mumbles.

  “It’s great that you don’t feel weird around Niall, though.  God, Harry must be so lucky to have you.” Liam says with a laugh.

  “Wait, why…why would I feel weird around Niall?” Louis asks.

  Liam stiffens, the warm look in his expression evaporating. “Um…no reason.” He says, sitting up a little straighter and taking a long sip of his beer.

  Louis bites at his lower lip nervously, glancing over at Harry.  Niall is right by his side, whispering something in his ear, and the two instantly start laughing – loud, proud laughter that Louis can hear crystal-clear even from the other side of the pub.  They look like best friends, and it reminds Louis of all the history that Niall must have with Harry that he doesn’t.  It’s stupid, really – Harry is just his assistant, and he hasn’t forgotten that this engagement is fake – but it still makes him feel uneasy, a sick feeling churning in his stomach.

  Liam seems to take pity on Louis, and he heaves a regretful sigh before leaning in close. “Okay, well…this isn’t meant to stir anything up, because it all happened  _ages_  ago and I’m sure they’re both done with it, but…well, they kind of dated back in high school.”

  Louis feels like his heart sinks to the soles of his feet, though it makes  _no sense_  that he’s feeling like this right now. “What?  I thought he didn’t come out until college.”

  “Well, he came out to his close friends in high school.  One of those friends happened to be Niall, and as it turns out Niall had a crush on him, and…well, they wound up dating for five years.  Harry told his family that Niall was just a friend from the football team, but everyone at school kind of figured it out, y’know?”

  “Oh…” is all Louis can say.

  Liam nods. “Yeah.  God, those two were great together.  They’d always finish each others’ sentences – they knew everything about each other.  It was…kind of weird, actually.  But then Harry went off to university in London, Niall stayed here and took over his family’s business, and the long distance thing just tore them apart.  Especially when Harry took his job at that publishing company; they were both just too busy to keep up.  Then, I guess, Harry met you, and…well, here we are.” He says with a smile, like he doesn’t possibly understand how what he just said could upset Louis.

  “Yeah, here we are.” Louis repeats dumbly, staring down at his glass and trying not to think about the fact that he can still hear Harry and Niall yelling and laughing together.  He dares to cast a glance up at them (he doesn’t understand why, he just can’t stop himself) and sees Niall leaning on Harry’s side, ruffling his curls fondly.

  “I think things worked out for the best, though.  I mean, I never thought Harry would be the marriage type.  If you two got engaged, well…man, he must be head over heels for you.” Liam says as he registers the look of dejection on Louis’s face, desperate to remedy the situation.

  Louis musters up a weak smile, because there is no way Liam knows that this just makes him feel worse.  Of course Harry wasn’t the engagement type; Louis  _forced_  him into this whole thing.  And as if that wasn’t bad enough, it was because of  _his_  demands and  _his_  habit of overworking his assistants that Harry and Niall broke up in the first place.

  But, of course, Liam doesn’t know any of this, so all Louis can do is try to look happy. “Yeah, well, what can I say?  He’s a changed man.”

  Liam flashes him a relieved grin, evidently satisfied that he’s patched up the situation, and he seems to decide that he should leave before he buggers anything up again. “Well, hey, I’m gonna go get another drink.  I’ll see you around.”

  Louis watches as Liam’s figure disappears into the sea of people before he lets his eyes wander, picking out the men’s room for future reference, because he feels like he might actually be sick.  He stands up and scans the crowd for Harry, leaving his drink behind him on the table as he elbows his way through the densely packed pub until he’s found Harry.

  Harry’s entire face is alight with joy, because he feels like he’s  _finally_  come home.  He’s seen his family, he’s spent a night in his own bed, and now he’s out drinking with all his old best mates; this is what he’s been missing.  And if his smile widens just a  _little_ bit more when he sees Louis pop up in front of him, well he won’t think about that more than he has to.

  “Hey, Louis!” Harry yells over the music and chatter from the other drunk men in the pub. “Having fun?”

  Louis tries his best to look content as he stands onto his tiptoes and leans in to murmur in Harry’s ear. “Um, I’m actually feeling kind of sick.  I think I’m just going to call a cab and go home, call it an early night.”

  Harry’s brow furrows, his full lips sinking into a frown. “Hang on, I’ll just tell Niall we’re leaving and then I’ll go with you.” Harry promises, his eyes already pouring over the pub in search for Niall, who he could have  _sworn_  was here just a second ago.

   Louis shakes his head. “No, no, everyone is here for you.  You should stay and have fun.  I’m just going to go to sleep anyway, I’ll be fine.”

  Harry’s look of concern only worsens. “Are you sure?  It’s no trouble, really.  These guys are just here for the drinks at this point, and I really don’t mind leaving if you’re not feeling well.”

  Louis cringes, because  _of course_  Harry’s so fucking perfect that he’d leave a party thrown just for him simply because his ‘asshole of a boss’ (as Liam put it) is feeling a little unwell. “Please stay.  I’ll be fine, okay?”

  “Okay, yeah.  Tell Gemma to make you some tea, and ask my mum for some paracetamol.  If you want to take a shower or bath or anything, my shower gel and shampoo are in my bathroom – you can use them, if you want.” Harry says, too drunk to stop himself from rambling

  Louis tries to smile, but it just makes him look even more upset. “Thanks.  I’ll see you when you get home, okay?”

  Harry nods, but his eyes don’t leave Louis until after he’s slid out the front door of the cab.

-

  Harry doesn’t get home until just after two in the morning, and as much as he’d like to be completely drunk, he hates to admit that he couldn’t stop thinking about Louis after he left.  He had kept trying to leave, but Niall had insisted he stay and see the party through.  As much as he loved Niall, it reminded him a little of the reason they broke up; as time went on, they grew into two  _very_ different people.  Niall was happy to stay in Holmes Chapel, taking up the family business and staying close to friends and family and partying as much as he could while he was still young.  Harry, on the other hand, had always wanted  _more_.  He’d wanted to travel, to start in a new city and work his way up, to fall in love with someone he could curl up with in his small apartment in a big town and start his own life, to make it on his own.  He’d loved Niall, but breaking up had just proved to be the better move for both of them.

 And now, as he creeps in through the front door as quietly as he can to avoid waking anyone, he is hit with the sudden realization that he’s done just that.  He’s made a life for himself.  Granted this engagement to Louis isn’t technically  _real_ , but Harry kind of feels like his life is really starting to come together.  And, after today, he’s starting to think that there are worse people he could be fake-married to than Louis.

  Just as he’s started to tiptoe up the top of stairs, however, the hall light blinks on, and Gemma pads out of her room and into the hallway in her pajamas and housecoat.

  “Oh, Harry.  There you are.  I’ve been waiting up all night for you.” She says as she runs her fingers through her messy bed-head hair, punctuating her sentence with a sleepy yawn.

  “Why were you waiting for me?” Harry asks, trying to keep his voice low to avoid waking Louis.  The light is off in his room, and he takes that as a good sign.  The thought of Louis all curled up in his bed, warm and sleepy, stirs a hollow ache in him, and he wants nothing more than to climb into bed and feel Louis next to him.  It’s a weird desire, but he’s too buzzed and tired to question it.

  “Louis had to leave, he said something came up with some book he was publishing and he had to go back to London.  He packed up all his stuff and caught the train about three hours ago.  But he left you this letter.” Gemma says, fishing a sealed envelope out from her robe pocket and handing it to Harry.

  Harry’s brow furrows.  He takes the letter and thanks her before slipping into his bedroom, collapsing on his bed and turning on the bedside lamp.  Sure enough, all of Louis’s stuff is gone, leaving the room as if Louis had never even been there in the first place.

  Harry sighs and tears open the envelope, wondering what the hell went wrong with the Malik manuscript now.  His stomach churns nervously, however, when Louis’s ring slips out of the folded paper, clattering noisily to the floor.

   _Dear Harry,_

_I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you in person, but I don’t think I’d have the courage to say this to your face.  I’m going back to London, and I’ve decided to call this whole engagement off.  I will tell Mr. Cowell that things just didn’t work out between us, and we decided it would be best to break up.  First thing tomorrow morning I will contact the Manchester branch and leave a message arranging to have you transferred there as the editor.  I’m sure I can have you starting there by the end of the week.  Nevertheless, I will take care of matters in the office, so please stay with your family and I will ensure you receive paid vacation for this week until the transfer paperwork goes through and you are officially relocated._

_Thank you once again for all you’ve done for me.  I’m sorry for calling things off so abruptly.  I fully understand whatever you need to tell your family, so please don’t be afraid to antagonize me.  What I did to you was wrong and unfair, and I hope that you can forgive me someday._

_Sincerely,_

_Louis Tomlinson_

-

  Louis has been reduced to a pitiful state.  He’s been home for 14 hours, and yet all he’s done is lie in his bed watching romance films and eating ice cream by the pint.  Zayn Malik’s manuscript is still sitting on his dresser, untouched, just staring at him and waiting to be finalized, but he can’t bring himself to do anything.  He’s tried to call the Manchester office three times, but each time he loses his courage just as he gets the machine, and he simply hangs up before he can leave a message.

  Just as the ending credits for  _The Notebook_  start to roll, Louis heaves a great sigh and exits the video, going back to his pay-per-view screen and scrolling through the other films.  He can only imagine how happy his cable company is to have him right now, he thinks bitterly as he confirms his order for  _Titanic_  and scoops another massive spoonful of chocolate ice cream into his mouth.

  Basically, he feels pathetic.

  He idly wonders if the reason he feels so much like absolute  _shit_  is because he actually let himself think he and Harry had grown closer.  When Harry had held him on the rides, when he’d kissed his head and let Louis snuggle into his chest, when he’d offered to go back to his place with Louis when he heard he was feeling unwell – all of those things, Louis had actually believed that Harry had done because he liked him, he’d let himself think maybe there was a chance this fake-marriage could have turned into something  _real_.  How stupid had he been?  He’d let himself forget that the entire thing was just a lie, that Harry was probably doing all of that either because he was a genuinely nice guy who would have done it for anyone, or because he had to keep up Louis’s lie.

  What’s worse is that Louis  _let_  himself believe this.  He let himself be happy with Harry, completely ignoring the fact that he had forced Harry into this entire situation.  And yet, despite all that, Harry had stuck by him, because he’s just a wonderful person and he’d have done it for almost anyone.  And Louis took advantage of that kind heart.

  All those people who loved Harry, those people who came to see him at the party at Anne’s home and all the people who showed up to Niall’s party at the pub, those people were all proof that Harry just had a way of charming people, he was just a great guy that  _everyone_  wanted to be around.  It was all just testament to what Louis had known all along, but never admitted to himself: Harry was too good for him, anyway.

-

  When Monday morning rolls around, Louis isn’t really looking much better.  He’s only gotten 3 hours of sleep since he left Harry’s, and he’s been living on a steady diet of crisps and ice cream.  But, nevertheless, he knows what he needs to do today.  He’ll go talk to Mr. Cowell and sort this whole mess out, he’ll  _properly_  call the Manchester office (he still hasn’t been able to call without losing his nerve at the last minute and hanging up, so he’s decided it’ll be better to do it when he can talk to a real person), he’ll start working on the transfer papers to move Harry to Manchester as an actual editor, and he’ll spend the rest of the afternoon locked in his office feeling sorry for himself.  It’s not a glamorous plan, but at least he’s being realistic.

  When he drags himself into the office, he’s subject to the curious stares of everyone on his floor.  They all seem to be looking for Harry, and though Louis can’t explain the instinct, he hides his left hand in his pocket so they can’t see his barren ring finger.  They’ll find out sooner or later, he  _knows_ that, but he just wants to keep this to himself for a little bit, until he’s gotten over it and can actually face people about this.

  He’s rather surprised to find that his office door is unlocked; he figures he must have forgotten to properly lock up when he left on Friday, what with all that was going on between him and Harry.

  He steps into his office and closes the door behind him, locking it and taking a moment to just stand there, leaning his forehead against the closed door and sucking in an unsteady deep breath.

  After a few more breaths, he forces himself to turn around and look at his office, though he knows it will look impossibly bare without Harry scurrying around, preparing files and setting up his coffee and muffin for him.

  But, despite expecting his office to be completely bare, Harry is lying fast asleep on the large sofa against the wall.

  Louis freezes, forces himself to blink a few times to make sure it’s not just wishful thinking.  He can hear Harry snoring quietly just a few feet away, and it all feels so  _wrong_ , because he’s already come to terms with the fact that he would never see him again (or at least, he  _tried_ ).

  After a few moments of silently staring in complete and utter shock, Louis manages to put himself together enough to tear his eyes away from Harry’s sleeping form.   _Okay, change in plans_ , he thinks to himself.  He can’t risk opening the door and going out in case the sound of the door wakes Harry up, and while Louis can’t understand why Harry’s even here in the first place, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want Harry to wake up alone.

  Instead, Louis takes a seat at his desk and quietly opens up Malik’s manuscript for the thousandth time this month, and while he’s staring at the pages and his eyes are skimming over the words, he’s not really absorbing anything.  He knows it’s stupid, but he feels like pretending to work will be enough to distract him.  It isn’t; he’s hyperaware of Harry’s presence, he’s memorized the steady rhythm of his heavy breathing.

  Twenty minutes later, that steady breathing catches, makes way for a sleepy groan.  Louis’s eyes flicker up over the edge of his glasses to cast a glance at Harry, watching as he rolls over and nearly falls off the narrow sofa.

  Harry peeks one eye open lazily, trying to figure out where he is and why he almost fell off whatever surface he’s sleeping on.  He catches sight of Louis’s office, and suddenly everything comes back to him, breaking through his sleepy haze.

  He shoots up off the couch, his knee colliding with the edge of the coffee table in his haste, and he bites back a curse. “Oh, God, Louis!  You’re here!” He stammers, hands flying around to try and straighten himself up.  His curls are a wild mess, his tie is crooked, and the suit that he wound up inadvertently sleeping in looks…well, slept-in.  He tries to smooth the wrinkles out with his palms, but he’s pretty sure that somehow makes it worse.

  “Um, yeah…I’m here.  In my office.” Louis says, and though he’s trying to be teasing, it just comes out sounding incredibly stupid. “But…why are you here?  I mean, I thought you would still be back in Holmes Chapel.”

  Harry groans and scrubs at his face with his palms. “This wasn’t the plan,” he mutters to himself, but he clears his throat and straightens up. “I got your letter.” He begins.

  Louis cuts him off before he can finish. “Look, I’m sorry that I haven’t called the Manchester office yet, but I’m just about to do it now.  I was going to do it first thing when I came into my office, but I didn’t want to wake you.” He says.  He’s not really sure how to handle this – whether he’s supposed to be brusque, friendly, standoffish, or just return to the normal sarcastic asshole he’d been before (and for some reason, the thought of returning to their old dynamic stings more than it should) – but he knows he wants this encounter to be over with.  Whatever Harry came to say can’t be good, and Louis just needs time to clear his head before he can handle being with him like this.

  “No, that’s not why I came.  Look, with all due respect, would you  _please_  just shut up and let me finish talking before you say anything?” Harry says, a desperate edge to his voice.

  Louis blinks a few times and straightens up in his seat, silently nodding for Harry to continue.

  Harry takes a deep breath and presses on. “Okay.  What you did was… _God_ , it was such a shitty thing of you.  You just packed up and left me!  I wasn’t even able to enjoy the rest of the party that night after you left because I was so worried about you, I just wanted to go home and make sure you were okay and try to take care of you.  I actually wanted to just lie in bed next to you, and I still don’t understand why I wanted that but I  _did_.  And then I come home to have my  _sister_  tell me that you left, and that you left me some cryptic little note that I can’t even understand.  You haven’t told me why you left, and I get that, to you, this was all just a business arrangement, but to me it…it started to become something more.” Harry’s voice quiets as he finishes, weaning down to a tired murmur by the end.

  Louis waits a few seconds – both to try and absorb what Harry said, and to make sure he’s finished speaking. “I’m sorry – I really am – but I had my reasons for what I did.”

  Harry looks at him expectantly. “I’m listening.”

  Louis sighs and runs his fingers through his fringe. “I felt bad, okay?  I mean, I overworked you.  I kept you away from your family, I kept you from visiting your friends, and apparently I broke up you and your boyfriend.  I wasn’t going to rope you into  _marrying_  me on top of all of that; that’s too much, even for me.  My work can’t control you like that.”

  Harry is shaking his head before Louis has even finished. “Wait, boyfriend?  What boyfriend?”

  “I heard about you and Niall, okay?  I heard that you two broke up because I was keeping you too busy at work to keep up with him.” Louis explains.

  “Well, whoever told you that had their facts wrong.  Niall and I broke up because I  _liked_  my work.  He’d always thought that I’d go to London for university and then come back and find a job in Holmes Chapel, and eventually we’d move in to some cute little house and settle down together.  But that wasn’t what I wanted.  I wanted to stay in London, to get a job in some big publishing company and work my way up.  I wanted a relationship that I felt could keep up with me, that would change with me and be steady but still somehow… _exhilarating_.  I didn’t have that with Niall.”

  Louis sighs. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve kept you from your family and friends.”

  “Did you miss the part where  _I applied for this job_?  I knew what I was getting myself into when I moved here!  I wouldn’t change my life for the world!  I mean, yeah, I miss my family, but…ugh, are you really going to make me say it?”

  Louis shoots him a confused look, but doesn’t say anything.

  “I missed  _you_.  When you left…it hurt.” Harry finishes.  He takes a moment to recollect his thoughts, staring at the floor absently, and neither man says anything for a while. “Can I ask you something?  Did this weekend mean anything to you?  At all?  Even a little bit?”

  Louis stiffens up, and he really,  _really_  wants to lie, but he owes it to Harry to be honest with him after all this. “More than it should have.  It kind of scared me, actually.  In a good way.”

  Harry smiles a bit, despite himself. “Me, too.” He admits quietly.  He takes a few tentative steps closer to Louis, each step feeling like a mile, and then suddenly they’re so close that he can  _feel_  it. “Won’t you lose your job if you call this engagement off?”

  “There are more important things in life than my job.” Louis says. “Maybe not in  _my_  life, but I digress.” He adds in a low murmur.

  Harry chuckles softly, and the sound is so potent it seems to warm the air. “You know…maybe we could go through with this engagement thing, without actually planning for a divorce.   Just to try a real relationship.” He stammers nervously, trying – and failing miserably – to sound confident.

  Louis’s mind goes blank, but his lips still manage to form the words, “I’d like that.”

  And, somehow, Harry manages to close the distance between the two, and then their lips are pressed together.  The kiss is slow and gentle and tentative, and it makes Louis feel like maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this.

  Harry pulls back, his face glowing and his cheeks dimpled with a wide grin. “We’re kind of doing things a bit backwards, aren’t we?  Getting married before dating, I mean.”

  Louis’s grin mirrors Harry’s exactly, and he feels like a little schoolgirl with a crush, but strangely enough it’s a feeling he wouldn’t trade for the world. “Don’t flatter yourself, Styles, it’s just business.” He teases.  He catches sight of his wrinkled sofa cushions, and suddenly he’s reminded of a few more pressing questions. “By the way, why were you sleeping in my office?”

  Harry’s grin instantly takes an apologetic look. “Erm…well, the only train I could catch to London didn’t arrive until 2 o’clock this morning, and I didn’t want to wake you up by showing up at your apartment in the middle of the night, so I thought I’d come here and surprise you at the office, since I still had my keys.”

  Louis narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Uh huh, and why are you wearing a suit and tie?”

  “See, I had a plan; I was supposed to be  _awake_  when you came in, and I’d be sitting on that sofa right there holding…oh, wait a second.” He walks over to the couch and crouches over, pulling out a large bouquet from underneath it. “Holding these!”

  “So you were going to show up in my office, fully dressed in a suit and tie and wielding flowers, and then yell at me?” Louis asks, but he can’t contain the amused grin that’s pulling at his face.

  “I had this big speech, but I forgot it.  I was tired and confused and I didn’t expect you to be here when I woke up.  It was just a bit overwhelming.” Harry says, making up as many excuses as he can think of, because he really  _did_  have a master plan.

  “And did you—” Louis begins.

  “Hey, we should kiss again now.” Harry interrupts, swooping down and catching Louis’s lips in another kiss to try and keep him from asking any more questions.

  Louis rolls his eyes, but smiles into the kiss as he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck.  He’s got absolutely no idea where they’ll go from here or what lies ahead, but he’s pretty confident that, with Harry by his side, the two of them can figure it out.


End file.
